


Applause

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Undertale
Genre: Blow Jobs, Insults, M/M, Masturbation, Power Imbalance, belittling, messy sex, mettaton is mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5078212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s envy, isn’t it?” His hand came up and Burgerpants flinched at the move, only to find Mettaton locking the door. Somehow that was worse. “You try so hard but just can’t find it dishing out like you hoped. Like it did for me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Applause

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i caved and wrote mettaton porn. there will probably be more to come knowing my shitty self control. enjoy.

The scent of grease and despair was almost enough to block out the stench of the MTT brand perfume that always seemed to linger in the lobby. Burgerpants grit his teeth into a pained smile and let his hands assemble the next order on autopilot. Glamburgers, fries, don’t forget the MTT toy that came with every special order; with every move he made he felt his spirit degrade that much more.

There was no hiding the fact that he was miserable, that he hated everything around him with a passion so bright it put the spot lights to shame. MTT this, MTT that, even out here in the lobby he could hear the mellifluous voice of the pre-recorded MTT greeting that sounded every time a guest lingered in the doorway. His hand threatened to bend the spatula with the force of his grip but he took a deep breath, relaxed. The line at the counter slowly emptied and he gave himself a moment to school himself. He was an actor, the greatest this world had yet to see. This was nothing. Just a stepping stone in the grand screenplay of his life. Another dozen glamburgers sizzled down on the greasy grill and he gave a small smile. Yeah. He’d get out of here soon enough and take his rightful place on the stage.

“Oh, darling,” an all too familiar voice sounded somewhere behind the counter. “I think you’ve already found your stage.”

Burgerpants froze, realizing he must have been speaking out loud. He turned slowly, forcing the company required smile onto his twitching face. “Good afternoon, Mettaton sir. What can I get for you?” It was a testament to his acting skills that he only sounded 60% acidic.

Mettaton had draped himself along the counter, turning his metallic nose up at the greasy surface but refusing to let an opportunity to pose go to waste. He hummed and stretched out his legs. “Oh, nothing for me, darling. I simply wished to see how you were managing, toiling away towards your dreams.” His statement was punctuated by a flurry of flashbulbs as the passersby realized who was in their midst.

He flipped the burgers and felt the sweat pooling on the back of his neck. Those photo ops should be for him, he couldn’t help but think as he shuffled the cheap meat through the greasy mess of the grill.

“I’m just fine, sir.”

Another hum, this one not even trying to hide the glee in Mettaton’s voice. His hand trailed down the smooth line of his hip, his leg, as he smoothly curled into another pose for the cameras behind him. Burgerpants swallowed hard, forcing his eyes not to follow.

“Is that so?” Mettaton asked, taking him in with bright eyes. His grin stretched from ear to ear and he kept eye contact even as he kicked out a leg. A container of carefully packed napkins clattered to the floor. “Oops.”

The spatula creaked in his hand, threatening to crack under the pressure. Mettaton took in the mess of napkins spread out on the tiles.

“You should clean those up, darling. Someone important might slip.”

“You are such an ASSHOLE!”

It took a moment for the exclamation to ring out before Burgerpants realized it came from him. The shocked silence that followed was deafening in its own right and he shook. He was so fired.

He wasn’t sure how to react when Mettaton started laughing, his smile blinding. With a graceful move, he descended from the counter on the cashier’s side. Two quick steps and he was there, looming over Burgerpants like the brilliant neon god he was.

“Why don’t we take a walk, darling?”

oOo

Burgerpants was a sweating mess by the time they made it to the back office. Mettaton led the way as bombastically as he did everything, kicking the secretary and resort manager out as they went. For half a second, Burgerpants thought to call out to them for help, but the dangerous sway of Mettaton’s hips threatened more punishment at further disobedience.

The door closed behind them like a nail pounded home in the lid of a coffin. Burgerpants shook and Mettaton grinned.

“You aren’t very fond of me, are you darling?”

His question was asked quietly, softly like he didn’t know the answer. His smile said otherwise.

Swallowing, Burgerpants twisted his hands in his work pants. “I uh, I—” he stuttered, nearly swallowing his tongue as the star prowled forward, backing him up against the door. Forget fired. He was going to be murdered, and no one would even know.

“It’s envy, isn’t it?” His hand came up and Burgerpants flinched at the move, only to find Mettaton locking the door. Somehow that was worse. “You try so hard but just can’t find it dishing out like you hoped. Like it did for me.”

Every word pierced something soft in his stomach and it was almost enough to distract him from Mettaton closing the distance between them. The air filled with the scent of Mettaton’s glitzy perfume, the scent somehow melding with the oil and whirl of his body to make it bearable.

Mettaton kept talking, his voice low and caressing in an enticing way. “Do you ever wonder why, darling? What do I have that you don’t?” His hand came up and Burgerpants flinched at the gentle touch. It rested on his face, forced his chin up to look into hot pink eyes.

He scrambled to fumble a reply when the eyes narrowed, the hand tightening. “Y-yes sir,” he managed, not seeing the point in lying at this point. He could scarcely think, not with the beautiful, loathed celebrity holding him in place like he was the only one deserving of his attention. It was blinding, hot. Like a spot light.

The hand not keeping his eyes forward settled on his shoulder, applying pressure until he sank to his knees at Mettaton’s boots. Eye contact was kept and Burgerpants wheezed in a breath, finding his mouth invaded by insistent metal fingers. He grunted but fell silent immediately when shushed.

“You just don’t have that It factor, darling.”

Burgerpants felt the anger bubbling in his stomach, hot and boiling, but with the cold metal in his mouth there was no room for an outlet. He let Mettaton guide him forward, press his lips to the heart at his waist. The container was so warm against his mouth, belying the coldness of the robot everywhere else.

Mettaton gave a little noise, some airy little whine nearly lost in the whirl of his internal fans. “You don’t have that certain thing that keeps an audience coming back for more,” he continued, using his fingers to coax Burgerpants to use his tongue. It didn’t take much to get him to comply, if only to make that waver in his voice stronger. Mettaton smiled at the fire in his eyes. “Unless you’d care to prove me wrong?”

Burgerpants couldn’t seem to stop shaking, his body so at odds with every single aspect of his current situation. The smooth pink at his mouth was almost fluttering at his touch and it sent a wave of heat through him, Mettaton’s sharp words cutting him deep in a way he could hardly describe. The cool fingers stroking his face and head were like salt in the wounds, stinging his pride but goading him on despite it all. He channeled his confusion into the task at hand and laved his tongue along the heart container, surprised at the sweet pink liquid dripping from the edges with pass he made.

Above him, Mettaton seemed to grow less composed, his voice trailing off on any barb he had at the ready and morphing into a needy moan. Like everything he did, he did it with an audience in mind. Burgerpants could hardly contain himself as the noises grew lascivious, so desperately wanton. All from him. This was all from him. He reached a hand down to palm at his own heat and opened his mouth wider, scraping his teeth against the glowing heart to make Mettaton scream.

“Darling, oh—Darling!” he cried out, his heart now positively dripping. There was a tremble rattling through his extremities and Burgerpants could feel him remove his hands, using them to support himself against the door behind them. “Show me what you’ve got!”

The words fueled him on and Burgerpants grabbed for Mettaton’s waist, pulled the robot closer like so many fans wished to do. He could feel the pink sweetness drip down his chin, staining his work shirt. God, he had no idea how to wash it out. The hand working himself in his pants moved faster at the thought of walking out of the room covered in Mettaton pink.

It only took a few more well-timed scrapes of his teeth to get Mettaton to come. The pink ran down his waist, his legs, messing up his boots. The majority though soaked Burgerpants, leaving him a sweaty, pink wreck. Mettaton towered above, godlike, and watched him work himself off while licking at the mess on his boots.

“Maybe you do have what it takes,” Mettaton crooned, and that alone was enough to send Burgerpants crying out, his own orgasm tearing him apart as easily as anything.


End file.
